I stabbed my eyeball with a toothpick last line: I needed the stimulation so bad. I hated every moment of it. Every parallel syllable coughed against me. Every monotonous noun scraped my feelings. Every stupid idea repeated it’s foul breath all over me.

God, why does poetry have to be this way? Why does war crime mean fun? Why does spooky mean more Reznikoff and Baecker?